TRAGIC ACCIDENT

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXI, Issue 19033, 10 June 1924, Page 7

TRAGIC ACCIDENT

NOTED AUSTRALIAN AIRMAN. LOSES HIS LIFE. MELBOURNE, May 21. Captain Andrew Lang, the wellknown aviator, was killed near Camperdown early this morning, when the car in which he was trying to create a reliability record crashed through a fence and overturned. The car, travelling in a dense fog, struck two large stones on the road, which caused it to swerve and turn practically at right angles to the direction in which it was travelling. Cook, the mechanic who accompanied Lang, was pinned beneath the car also, but was able to extricate himself and go for assistance. DISTINGUISHED CAREER.

The death of Captain Andrew Lang marks the passing of a distinguished airman. It was with something of prophetic vision that he discussed his future, in talking to one of his closest friends when he was last in Sydney. He then remarked that he knew that he would “go out” suddenly one day when engaged in some “stunt” or other. Such as happened. The passing of such a man leaves an unmistakable void. He knew not the meaning of fear. Captain Lang was essentially, and above all else, the chivalrous, adventurous type, whose life suggested one of the dare-devil, picturesque figures of the Elizabethan age. His life was practically one long chapter of remarkable incidents and accidents, and of the thrills of adventure which always appealed to him. The dull, prosaic routine of life made no appeal to Andrew Lang. He preferred the unbeaten tracks. He revelled in those things that had in them a spice of adventure—the things, after all, that are a test of manhood.

As an airman, Captain Lang was worthy of the best and highest traditions of the heroic young band of men who, as aviators, have added a fresh lustre to British arms. Captain Lang will be remembered especially for the record which he established early in 1919, near Ipswich, in the Old Country. In a two-seater machine, fitted with a 450 h.p. Napier “Lion” engine, and with Lieutenant Blowers as observer, he ascended to a height of 30,500 feet in 66 minutes 15 seconds, thus breaking the then world’s record. It was a risky adventure. At 21,000 feet, owing to the observer’s oxygen supply failing because of a broken pipe, Lieutenant Blowers fainted and remained unconscious until they again reached 10,000 feet. Captain Lang had been unaware of his companion’s plight. The machine was unable to exceed the altitude of 30,500 feet because the lack of air pressure stopped the pumps from supplying petrol and oil. The heating apparatus became defective at 28,000 feet. After the flight the observer had to go into hospital with frozen hands and toes, while Captain Lang’s fingers and face were frost-bitten. One of his eyes was also affected owing to the extreme cold. The adventure had an interesting sequel, and one which Captain Lang used to laugh over in later years. He had completed an extraordinary flight only to be arrested on the ground that he had disclosed for publication details of his record. This was in the hectic days of the war, and the authorities evidently did not want the enemy to know too much. The facts, however, as related later, put a different complexion on the incident. Captain Lang did not give out details to the press representatives, who stormed the landing-stage; other air officers, having made acquaintance with them, gave the details out, and in order to shield them Captain Lang cheerfully accepted the reprimand, which was the strange fruit of his crowning triumph.

On quite a number of occasions Captain Lang cheated death. In December, 1922, he was the pilot of Mr Lebbeus Hordern’s seaplane Flcetwings, which plunged into the harbour off Point Piper and sank. Captain Lang then had a remarkable escape. For some moments he was completely submerged. Strapped helplessly to his seat, he was on the point of being drowned, when he succeeded in undoing the belt which secured him to the seat of the machine, just before the machine disappeared. Any other man would have immediately thought of changing his clothes ajftcr recovering himself. Captain Lang, however, still in the wet clothes which he was wearing when he was unceremoniously plunged into the harbour, afterwards calmly walked into the Herald office, transacted some business and hurried off to catch the express which was leaving Sydney the same evening for Melbourne.

Captian Lang took part in the last motor reliability tests through the Alpine regions of Victoria to Kosciusko. The accidents and other mishaps which he met throughout the journey he attributed to the number 13. There certainly must have been things that were of ill-omen as far as he was concerned, for he always guarded jealously a mascot which was given to him by Bob Fitzsimmons, the boxer. Andrew Lang himself was no mean figure with the gloves on.

Captain Lang was the son of the late Dr. W. H. Lang, at one time of Corowa, and later handicapper for the Victoria Racing Club and the Victorian Amateur Turf Club, and he was a nephew of the famous man of letters whose name ho bore. Captain Lang was rejected for service in the Australian Expeditionary Forces, so he went to England and enlisted in the Royal Flying Corps. He served on the French front in 1915, and, being invalided, he returned to Australia the following year. He assisted to raise the 4th Australian Flying Corps in Victoria, and returned to England with it in 1917. Later he was given the command of a training squadron. The British authorities had the highest estimation of Captain Lang’s technical knowledge and expert capacity for testing new machines, and for some time he was aeroplane tester to the British War Office. He was educated in Melbourne, and later in England. Good, clean sport always had a fascination for him. During his school days and in his later life he was wellknown in rowing circles. *